Hermione Granger: Mudblood Slytherin
by Olivia Snape
Summary: What if Hermione met a friendly Slytherin before going to Hogwarts? She ends up in Slytherin, of course! Features Slytherin!Hermione and Nicer!Draco. AU, rating may go up to T.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Therefore, I'm not JK Rowling. Just in case some person gets the wrong idea. This doesn't do anything for you legally, so I'm just writing it for the first chapter.**

* * *

"Hermione! There's an owl in broad daylight!"  
"Dad! You know owls don't come out in the daytime. Nice try."  
"Honey, there really is an owl!"  
"Alright. But just this once."  
I walk to the window. What I see is an owl swooping towards our house with a letter tied to its leg.  
"It's probably our neighbors."  
"Really?"  
"You know, the ones who never come outside."  
The owl taps its claw on our window.  
"This isn't normal…" my father says.  
"Let's just ignore it?" I suggest.  
The owl hoots, almost as if it were exasperated.  
"Alright, Hermione. I've got to leave for work. Your mom and I be home by 5. Love you. Stay safe. Bye."  
"Bye, Dad!"  
I pick up a book and begin to read.

* * *

The owl is still hooting and tapping its claw on the window. I haven't gotten any reading done. It's 4:00.  
Thinking it would be better to get this over and done with, I open the window. The owl swoops in, shaking its leg.  
That reminds me, it has a letter attached to its leg. I gently slide the letter off. The owl leaves, and I open the letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Deputy Headmistress_

I throw the letter away and return to my reading. I'm not a witch. When my parents return home, they tell me it was probably a prank from that.

* * *

The next day, another letter arrives. I throw it out. Another day passes. I find two letters in between the pages of Mom's magazine. Five are in my drawer. Three fall out of the roll of toilet paper.  
Fine. I will entertain the idea. I am a witch.  
Now that I think about it, I have been doing witch-like things. When Cindy R. Blawek and her stupid clique of girls taunted me in the hallways and toppled my pile of books, they broke out in pimples the next day, which was school picture day. "Who's the freak now?" I would think.  
And when Ed Iyat called me ugly and stupid and threatened to bring physical harm to me when I was walking home, I found myself sitting peacefully at home a block away.  
I am not really magical. I could have mentally shut out all the incidents and somehow gotten away unscathed. The pimples could have been a simple coincidence. But all I can think of is magic.  
How did entertaining an idea result in this? I throw away all the letters.

* * *

"Hmm… A bill, another bill, and 17 letters for Hermione. Throw out the letters," my mom says.  
"Redvines! Redvines! Buy some Redvines, in packs of nine!" The television blares. My eyes are glazed over. I am bored. No matter how much I may like it, I can't read books for every single minute of my life. I have no friends to hang out with.  
Three letters pop out of the couch without warning.  
Surely the perpetrator must have gotten bored of the prank.  
I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch.

* * *

Forty two more letters in the toaster. I am not a witch. Sixty four more letters under the bed covers. I am not a witch. Sixteen more letters sticking out of the window. I am not a witch.  
Still, I can't get the tiny voice out of my head that I may be magical…

* * *

I hear a sharp knock on the door.  
"I don't think we invited anyone over…" My mom opens the door warily.  
She jumps back as an old woman wearing a neon yellow robe smiles cheerily.  
"Don't you dare hurt my family! Why are you here!?" My dad says, jumping in front of my mother and I.  
The woman looks quite taken aback.  
"I assure you, I am not here to harm your family! I wanted to inform you that your daughter is-"  
"-intelligent and does not appreciate these practical jokes. Please leave immediately." My mom cut in.  
"Mom, dad, let's give her a chance. Don't let her in yet, but give her a chance."  
"Very well." Dad huffed.  
The woman beamed. "Anyway, this might come as a shock, but your daughter is magical. Normally, we would have informed you right when she got the letter, but there was an oversight. All magical children are sent Hogwarts acceptance letters at the age of 11…" She continues to explain about magic. I learn about what Hogwarts is, what magic can do, and where to get my things. She says she'll accompany me to Diagon Alley.  
It takes my parents some coaxing, but eventually they agree to let me go and give me one hundred pounds to pay for my school supplies.  
Thankfully it is only the 20th of July. I can still read all the books and hopefully get on par with everyone else!

* * *

I wake up, bouncing around. I'm going to Hogwarts. I can escape from all the bullies at school. I might make some new friends! I can't wait to get to Diagon Alley and learn new things! I am ready in four minutes.

A few hours later, Professor Sprout and I are standing outside… a dirty-looking pub. If I were in a story, this would be very anti-climatic. However, this is reality. Professor Sprout opens the door and walks in. The place is dark and shabby. We pass right through. She taps her wand on some bricks above a trash can. I wonder if she is insane. Is this all just a dream? Is it a practical joke? However, the bricks wriggled. Right before my eyes, they formed an archway large enough for a giant to fit through.  
"Welcome to Diagon Alley!"  
I open the supply list I brought along.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
_of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_  
_First-year students will require:_  
_sets of plain work robes (black)_  
_plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_  
_pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_  
_winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_  
_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_  
_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_  
_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  
_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  
_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_  
_by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_  
_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_  
_1 set glass or crystal phials_  
_1 telescope_  
_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

We go to Gringotts to get my money converted. The marble building is a wonder of architecture. I stare open-mouthed at everything I see. It's all so wonderful and new. The Potions apothecary has several fascinating ingredients. The book store, Flourish and Blotts, has more books than I could ever have imagined.  
We go into the robe shop, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.  
"Hogwarts, dear?" she asks,"We've got another young lady being fitted up right now."  
I look around and see a black-haired girl being fitted up.  
"Hi! I'm, like, Tracey! Hogwarts, too?"  
"Yes," I say.  
"What House do you want to be in? Mum was a Slytherin, and I want to be one too! Nothing else, or I'd get on the Express and go home! And possibly transfer to Beauxbatons…"  
I listen to the girl ramble about random topics. Before I know it, I am already fitted up and buying my robes.  
"-and what's your name?"  
"Hermione." I answer.  
"See you at Hogwarts, then!" Tracey said cheerily.  
"See you, I guess." I said.  
She was kind of overwhelming, but seemed nice. I smiled to myself. Maybe I would have a friend at Hogwarts…

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**Thanks for reading my story! ^^ Reviews are appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Go to the first chapter.**

* * *

My parents drive me to King's Cross. I have already read all the textbooks several times over. I don't want to be behind everyone else.

"Stay safe! Study hard! And make friends!" they shout as I run into the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10.

Anticipating a crash, I squeeze my eyes shut. It never comes. I open my eyes and grin. I see witches and wizards of all ages. A scarlet steam engine is waiting, and a wrought-iron archway with Platform 9 and 3/4 written on it is behind me. To make sure this isn't some elaborate prank by one of the richer students at my school, I reach out and touch the train.

"What are you doing? Hugging the Express?"

I whip around, immediately letting go of the Hogwarts Express. I see a (dare I say) handsome platinum blonde male, about my age.

"I-I-" I stutter, blushing.

"Oh," he says, his cheeks tinged with pink, "sorry. That's no way to treat a lady. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." he extends his arm, and I shake it.

He kisses my hand. I blush furiously.

"Hey, Malfoy! You fancy her?" I hear a male voice in the distance.

"SHUT UP!" he yells, face going bright red. "You know I kiss the hand of every girl I meet! It's polite!"

"Saying 'shut up' isn't exactly polite!"

"Sorry. That's my annoying friend. I don't even know why I associate with him." he mutters.

"I heard that!"

"Come on. Let's find the others."

"Who are the others?"

"You know, the other Slytherins."

No, I don't know. And one doesn't automatically know what house they will be in just because of family.

"You can't know what house you get sorted into before it actually happens. Just because your parents were in Slytherin doesn't mean you will be one. Maybe you'll be a Ravenclaw or something."

We continue walking into different compartments, trying to find these 'other Slytherins'. I hope they're nice…

"I'm pretty sure I'll be a Slytherin, then." he says, annoyed. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"I don't remember a Granger on the family tree… You must be a Mudb- I mean Muggleborn." he blushes again. "I never thought they could be so… not disgusting. You must be a special exception."

"What's this all about? Muggleborns being inferior?"

"Well… We were born with magic. Muggleborns weren't."

"That's all?"

That's not much to base a prejudice on. Just like the color of one's skin. It doesn't matter.

"No. I just don't want to offend you…"

"If Muggleborns are so inferior, you would want to offend me."

"… We'll come back to this later."

We open the next compartment door.

"'MIONE!"

Suddenly, I'm enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Feeling awkward, I step away.

"Aww! It was just a little hug!"

Tracey sits down. Note to self: Never let Tracey Davis hug you.

"Well, look what followed poor Drakie-poo in. A Mudblood! Who do you think you are? You'll be 'one of the rest' in oh-so-grand Hufflepuff for sure." a black-haired girl sneers.

A dark-skinned boy with high cheekbones laughed quietly. I recognized his voice as the one teasing Draco at Platform 9 and 3/4.

"Well?" she says impatiently. "Isn't this funny?"

Much too late, two boys who look like they have more muscle than brains begin guffawing. I groan inwardly. If Slytherin is mainly made up of brutes and bullies, I probably won't be seeing much of Draco. There are always other houses…

"Chill out, guys! Look, she's my friend, I-"

"Oh, I never thought you would like filthy Mudbloods, Tracey. Drakie-poo! You haven't said anything yet! Put this 'Muggleborn' in her place!"

"If you are so superior, you wouldn't be guffawing like idiots at an inferior Mudblood. You would be ignoring them." Draco said.

The girl looks quite put out. "Oh. Well, Harry Potter is supposedly on the train."

Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived!? He defeated the Dark Lord as a baby! I run off through the compartments.

Eventually, I find a compartment with a raven-haired boy with brilliant emerald orbs and cute glasses. I smile at him.

"You're Harry Potter! I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" he questions, looking puzzled.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I would have found out everything I could if it was me. Do you know-"

The compartment door slides open. Draco and the two brutes walk in.

"Is it true? They're all saying down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." said Harry, looking at the two thickset boys.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. The lovely lady next to you is Hermione," I blush,"and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

A freckled redhead who I didn't notice previously gives a cough that may be hiding a snigger. How rude!

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." he retaliates, turning back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." The wrong sort… non-purebloods.

He held out his hand for Harry to take.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Harry rejects. I can't believe Harry just… rejected Draco like that. I thought he was a better person. Why was he so rude? And why would Draco speak about the 'wrong sort' with me around?

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Draco doesn't know them personally. Who is he to judge? Apparently, Harry and the other boy think so too. They stand up.

"Say that again," the redhead (perhaps a Weasley) says, face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Unless you get out now," Harry says.

First Harry rejects Draco, now he's going to fight physically. Can things get any worse?

"Stop arguing! Please!" I yell exasperatedly. The two boys turn to me.

"Well, Potter rejected me!"

"You fancy him?" the Weasley boy smirks.

"NO! He's being stupid. One does not simply reject a Malfoy's offer of friendship. Come on."

He and the two bodyguard-looking boys leave.

I sit down.

"Can I sit here?"

"Er… sure…"

I guess I've been a bit overwhelming… I don't want to go to the Slytherin compartment, though. Not until the purists leave. I don't want to listen to their bigoted ideas. I just want to prevent the ideas from spreading and let them die out.

I notice the redhead boy has a wand out.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then…"

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**Thanks for reading my story! ^^ I really appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Look at the first chapter.**

**A/N: Some elements are glossed over, like the song, because I don't want to pad my word count. This goes for all my chapters after this one as well.**

* * *

We arrive at Hogwarts. A stern-looking teacher opens the door.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says a giant of a man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulls the great doors open to reveal an Entrance Hall. It is so large you could fit my house into it. An exquisite marble staircaise facing us leads to the upper floors. The ceiling is too high to make out. I wouldn't know it was there, if it wasn't for Hogwarts: A History. I read that it was enchanted to look like the sky outside. It makes me wonder about exactly what we could be capable of if we just tried.

We follow Professor McGonagall and hear the idle chatter of hundreds of students. She leads us into a small chamber off the entrance hall. Everyone packs together. The professor explains Houses. Most people have either been told by their family what happens or had this explained by a professor introducing Muggleborns to the magical world.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Someone whispers.

I honestly don't know. The people who wrote Hogwarts: A History should have put that in. In that case, I wonder what spells I will need. Several ghosts appear through the back wall. They are translucent and a misty white. They greet us and wish us luck in our houses. I heard them mention something about a "Peeves" and "not really being a ghost" and "giving them a bad name". I'll have to watch out for this… being.

Professor McGonagall appeared with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

It's that simple?

"Abbott, Hannah!"

She continues calling off names.

"Davis, Tracey!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

She grins and waves at me.

"Granger, Hermione!"

I run to the stool, eager to be sorted.

_"Hmm… brave, intelligent, hard-working. And do I see some ambition? A mind that would be capable of plotting if pushed…"_

I can see the hat is considering Slytherin… I heard most of them are Dark wizards…

_"Are you sure? As I'm sure you know, judging by one's House only is prejudice…"_

I'm immediatey reminded of the taunts of "Mudblood". But this is different, isn't it?

_"Stubborn as always, Miss Granger. Quite a Gryffindor trait of you. Hmm… Slytherin could help you reverse the prejudice of others, including prejudice about the House itself."_

"Then put me in what fits me best."

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat announces to the hall.

Everyone stares. I am the third ever Muggleborn to be Sorted into Slytherin. A hook-nosed professor looks directly into my eyes. I look down, ashamed.

I forgot how big an impact this would be and what it means for my social future. I wanted to start over. I guess I'll just be shunned all over again. I walk over to the Slytherin table, chin up. Ignore them, I think to myself. I sit next to who could possibly be my only friend in this house, Tracey. She hugs me again, thankfully not so tightly.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The boys and girls at my table boo the new Gryffindor, although it is drowned out by the cheering of the Gryffindors.

"What was that all about?"

"What?"

"The booing…?"

"Well," she says, inspecting her nails,"the Gryffindors don't think. Their nerve is, pretty much, like, randomly hexing Slytherins. And saying we're all totally evil."

"Not all of them are like that though… right? Like not all Slytherins are evil?"

"Hmm… probably!"

I notice a pale blond boy strutting up to the Sorting Hat. Draco.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

He saunters over, smirking. He sits right next to me.

"Good choice on joining Slytherin, 'Mione."

"Congratulations, too." I smile slightly.

"Hey! Why don't I get a congratulations!?" Tracey pouts.

"Congratulations."

"I had to ask! It's different!"

* * *

The hook-nosed professor led us out of the Great Hall and into some dungeons. He stops at a dead end and mutters something. A stone door I hadn't noticed slides open to reveal a long, low room. It has rough stone walls and green lamps hanging from chains. What really draws our attention is a crackling, inviting fire under an elaborately carved mantelpiece. Several high-backed, cozy looking chairs are placed around the fire.

"This is the Slytherin Common Room. You will be spending most of your free time in this room. Farley, elaborate."

The professor swept out the room, robes billowing behind him.

A girl, presumably Farley, speaks up,"That was Professor Snape, our Head of House. Welcome to Slytherin. You will find the unofficial rules of Slytherin tacked onto the signboards right before the dorms. The girls' dorms are on the right and the boys' are on the left."

Yawning, we walk to our dorms. Our beds are comfy. Dark green blankets and silver sheets coat the bed, while the mattresses are not too hard and not too soft. I fall asleep immediately, too tired to find out who else got into Slytherin.

I wake up and see the sleeping figures of four other girls. I quickly change robes and go back to the Common Room. I'm not surprised to see I'm the only one downstairs. I grab a chair near the fire.

Yawning and rubbing his eyes, Draco comes downstairs and plops down in a chair.

"Hey, Hermione. Have you seen the unofficial rules? We have to wake up at 6! Can you believe it!?"

"Actually, this is when I normally wake up."

Draco stares.

"Wow, Hermione…"

Speaking of these unofficial rules, I get up and read the rules.

_Neither gender may go into the opposite genders' dorms without permission from the person you intend to visit. This is irreversible until the next year. Choose your friends and allies wisely._

_Slytherins are expected to stick together. Loyalty isn't just for Hufflepuffs. It's not our only quality, unlike Hufflepuffs. Almost three quarters of the school thinks we are all Dark wizards in the making. If you have a problem with another Slytherin, keep it out of the open where anyone can hear you._

_Slytherins are expected to make it to class and other events on time. Wake up at 6:00 or earlier._

_Finally, blood matters. Ability, power, and ambition matters more._

_This document has been approved by Professor S. Snape._

I hear footsteps. Draco's annoying friend had come around.

"Wake up!" he shakes Draco by the shoulders.

"I'm up! I'm up! You're messing up my hair!"

In response, Blaise ruffles Draco's neatly gelled hair. Bits and pieces stick up here and there.

"HEY!"

I watch in amusement. In the end, Draco's hair looks very good (albeit messy) and he himself looks half-embarrassed and half-annoyed. I ruffle his hair one more time before leaving for breakfast.

* * *

**Thanks for reading/subbing/faving! ^^ Also, kudos to my beta/co-author DracoMalfoyIsMyLionI'mHisLamb for helping out! ^^**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Look at the first chapter.**

* * *

All sorts of dishes appear once students begin to file in. I immediately grab the salad. I'm not supposed to eat anything sticky in frequency, it's bad for your teeth.

Looking up, I notice some students I would rather not see. The group of guffawing blood purists from the train. They seem to have gathered a new heckling buddy. Why did they have to make it here…? And why did they have to be the first Slytherins here other than me?

"Oh, so you got into Slytherin. You're still a Mudblood," the black haired girl says.

"Why does that matter…?" I asked.

"You're polluting our house," interjects Draco's annoying friend whose name I forget.

"And how…?"

"There's no way you could have gotten magic without stealing it somehow," says the new boy.

"I didn't!"

"You're lying. You'll pay."

The annoying associate shoves me against the wall.

In these types of situations, I'm supposed to kick the attacker in the groin and run off screaming. But I never thought I'd have to do that. I brace myself.

"Ability matters more than lineage. Slytherins show unity. Zabini, Parkinson, Nott, you would do well to remember that."

All three back off. I scan the room for the voice. It's Professor Snape…

"Thank you," I say, relieved.

He gives me an odd, piercing look and swoops away.

* * *

I walk quickly to Charms, not wanting to be late. I find myself crashing into someone else.

"Oh, sorry! Let me help you."

I look at the person and notice radiant green eyes and obsidian black hair. It's Harry Potter. Out of all people, why did I have to smash into him!? He must think I'm clumsy and useless…

I quickly gather up his things and hand them to him, not looking at him.

"Hey, thanks."

I blush and walk away to Charms.

* * *

Transfiguration is taught by Professor McGonagall. She transforms her desk into a pig, but I can tell we won't be doing those kinds of transfigurations in a long time. We take many complicated-looking notes, but they're simple compared to what we'll be doing in a few years. She hands us a match and assigns us the task of transforming it into a needle.

At the end of the lesson, only Draco and I have silver, pointy needles. Professor McGonagall smiles at us and shows the class our needles.

Defense Against the Dark Arts is rather disappointing. When someone asked eagerly how Professor Quirrell achieved something, he avoided the topic.

History of Magic is very boring. However, this information could be relevant in the future. I struggle to stay awake as I take notes on what Professor Binns is saying.

In Astronomy, we study the names of different stars and planets.

And finally, Herbology is taught by a stout little witch, Professor Sprout. We go into a greenhouse and learn how to take care of the plants and fungi and what they are used for.

In all, classes are very different from at my Muggle school.

* * *

Double Potions with the Gryffindors today. Draco seems happy.

"They say Professor Snape favors us. This should be fun…"

House rivalries again. Not exactly nice… but then again, Professor Snape DID help me out earlier this week…

A few hours later, I'm in the dungeons, passing the common room. Professor Snape swings the heavy double doors open.

He starts the lesson by taking role call. He pauses at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco and his two bodyguards snigger behind their hands. I glower at him in disapproval.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he begins. He speaks in barely more than a whisper, but we catch every word - like Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I'm not a dunderhead, and neither are any of us. We're just first years.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of aphsodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

That's an unfair question. But I raise my hand anyway. They make the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion.

"I don't know, sir."

The professor sneers.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry is clueless. Draco is convulsing, trying to hold his laughter in. I give them another glare.

A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat. However, one would look in the potions store cupboard.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Does he really expect everyone to memorize every fact in books not even in his subject by heart? That's a really high standard for the first few weeks… not that I mind.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

That's a trick question. They are the same plant, also known as aconite. I get the feeling this professor is unfair…

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you give her a try?"

I notice that I'm standing up, hand raised. I quickly sit down before the professor can scold me.

"One point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter. Miss Granger?"

I'm delighted that I get the chance to show I'm not a dunderhead. I answer all his questions correctly.

"Well, why aren't you all copying that down? 5 points to Slytherin for actually bothering to _open a book_."

There is a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Our professor puts us all into pairs and sets us to mixing a simple potion to cure boils. I end up paired with Draco. We crush snake fangs and weigh dried nettles. Professor Snape criticizes all the Gryffindors, especially Harry. It's really unfair, considering how Vincent Crabbe's potion has curdled into a sort of yellow blob, while Harry's looks good, even exceptional in comparison. Our professor particularly seems to like Draco, who he is currently complimenting on the way Draco is stewing horned slugs.

Suddenly, hissing resounds throughout the classroom. Neville Longbottom has somehow melted Seamus Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted shape. Their potion seeps across the floor, burning holes in people's shoes. I hurriedly step on my stool, not wanting anything to happen. Meanwhile, Neville is drenched in the potion. He moans as red boils begin to pop up everywhere.

"Idiot boy!" snarls the professor, vanishing the potion. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him to the hospital wing, Finnigan. You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it.

I decide to help Harry with his potion. It's not looking so good anymore. After a few minutes of tips, it's looking perfect.

"Know it all," the Weasley from the train mutters.

"Thanks, Hermione, was it?"

"Zero, Potter. Apparently, you can't brew a simple potion correctly without the assistance of brighter pupils."

Harry goes pink.

As soon as Snape leaves, I tell Harry, "I know, he's really unfair. But he can't be all bad… he helped me when some Slytherins were harassing me about being Muggleborn. And he likes Draco."

"Malfoy is scum. Snape liking him isn't a good thing. I don't get how you two are friends. He's going to betray you someday."

"No, he won't!"

"Trust me. He's a bigot, you're Muggleborn."

"I'm sure he won't."

"Take care, then."

"I will."

"Anyway, why does Snape hate me so much?"

"Well, I honestly don't know. Slytherins generally dislike Gryffindors, though… but cheer up. It's only 2 points taken unfairly. Focus on the potion, maybe he'll change your score if it turns out well…"

"I doubt it."

Harry tries anyway. Nothing changes.

"What are you doing!?" Draco hisses.

"Helping a friend." I say defensively.

"Get back over here, I've had to do almost everything," he spits.

"Well then! Sorry, Harry."

That was offensive… Draco must really hate Harry.

At the end of class, we hand in our potion. Ours looks close, if not exact, to what we were supposed to make. I smile at Draco, who grins back.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed/faved/subbed, and my beta/co-author DracoMalfoyIsMyLionI'mHisLamb. ^^**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Look at the first chapter.**

* * *

I don't get to see much of Harry, since we only have Double Potions with the Gryffindors.  
Today, a notice on the bulletin board states that we will be having flying lessons on Thursdays with the Gryffindors. I'll see Harry. And I also don't know how to fly a broom.  
"Hey, Hermione. Did you know I've almost ran into a Muggle… 'hello copper' on my Comet 260?" Noticing the look of confusion on my face, Draco adds, "It's a broomstick. One of the best."  
"It's called a helicopter." I say, amused.  
"Oh. I - er - I knew that. Just testing you."  
"Sure."  
"I admit it, I'm not as smart as you," Draco says.  
"Thanks," I blush,"and continue. I can't believe no authorities found out, aside from your dad."  
"My father has all sorts of connections. He's really influential in the Ministry. He's brilliant, and a former Slytherin. He…" Draco continues to brag and ramble about his father.  
It seems he holds his dad in high esteem. I wonder if the Malfoys would approve of me…  
I sprint to the library to get a book on flying, I don't want to be left behind in anything. Judging by the way everyone's bragging about it, almost everyone can fly already.  
We arrive at breakfast. I read Quidditch Through The Ages. Draco's magnificent eagle owl swoops down carrying a large package of sweets from his mother, which he distributes to each Slytherin first year. That's really sweet of him… until I notice him smirking at the Gryffindors, specifically Harry, and strutting over to their table with Crabbe and Goyle.  
"Draco, _no_!"  
He completely ignores me. Well, if he gets in trouble, it's not my fault. He snatches a small glass ball from the Gryffindor who messed up in Potions. Professor McGonagall arrives and he scurries back to our table.  
"You could have just stayed here or listened to me!" I hiss.  
"I didn't get in trouble. Calm down. Let me tell you about the last time I hit a Muggle flying machine."  
"Draco, how does one fly?" I ask apprehensively, "Are there any special things you need to know?"  
"I never thought about that. I just fly. Ask someone else." He turns to Blaise Zabini and starts chatting animatedly.  
"Tracey? How do you fly?"  
"I… never touched a broomstick, I don't like flying much. It's scary! You could fall and break a bone."  
That doesn't help at all. I'm probably going to fail. I sigh and turn back to my Quidditch book.

* * *

At 3:00 PM, all Slytherin first years line up in front of broomsticks. We're early. It's a nice, breezy day. The Gryffindors are taking forever. I engage in idle chatter with Tracey, trying to block out the whispers of 'Mudblood' and 'blood traitor'.  
About half an hour later, the Gryffindors file in. Finally. Harry takes a broomstick next to Ronald Weasley. Our professor, Madam Hooch, arrives. She has short silver hair and golden eyes.  
"Well, everyone, what are you all waiting for?" she barks, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."  
Everyone's broom is old and in some way damaged.  
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"  
"UP!" everyone shouts.  
Harry's jumps straight into his hand, and so does Draco's. Mine rolls on the grass. What am I doing wrong…?  
However, Madam Hooch doesn't bother to show us how to make the brooms jump into our hand. Instead, she shows us how to mount our brooms and corrects our grips. Mine is incorrect. If she's correcting our grips, why doesn't she elaborate on the right way instead of wasting our time!? At least I'm not the only one. Draco's grip is wrong, and his face is completely red.  
"She's teaching the beginner's grip! My father taught me the grip I use, and I've never fallen off! Does she expect us to revert back to the basics just for this lesson!?" He rages.  
"Draco, calm down. You're probably overreacting. She just doesn't want you showing off." I appeal to his over inflated ego, placating him.  
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"  
Neville Longbottom, the boy who messed up in Potions, nervously kicks off on 'two'. He rockets up and continues, higher and higher. ("Come back, boy!") I hope he doesn't hurt himself… Neville looks down at the ground, eyes wide and face white. He loses his balance and slips off, falling and cracking his wrist. The broom drifts away lazily. Well, at least he's not seriously injured, although he's certainly acting like it. He's lying facedown in a heap on the grass, while Madam Hooch hovers over him.  
"Broken wrist. Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."  
She turns to our class.  
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."  
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbles off with Madam Hooch, whose arm is around him.  
When the two move out of earshot, Draco bursts into laughter.  
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"  
Most of the other Slytherins join in.  
Before one of the Gryffindors can speak, I say, "Shut up, Draco! How would you like it if it were you who fell off after trying to do some stupid stunt? What did Neville ever do to you?"  
"I don't think you should have said that," Tracey mutters in my ear.  
"I wouldn't fall off in the first place," Draco says arrogantly, "and Longbottom's an idiot. He can't do anything right."  
"He tries! It's not his f-" I stop as Tracy claps a hand over my mouth.  
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought even you'd stoop so low! Good job silencing the filth, Tracy."  
"I-" she says, before stopping.  
"She's not filth," Draco says, stepping in front of me, "Stay out of this, Hermione."  
I don't get how someone can be so cruel in one moment and suddenly nice the next.  
"DRAKIE-POO! You're under her spell! She's probably given you a love potion, you're-"  
"I'm perfectly fine. If I had taken a love potion, I would be attempting to kiss Hermione. That's not so," Draco says, annoyed.  
Pansy huffs and narrows her eyes at me.  
"Thanks," I mutter to Draco.  
"You're very welcome. As I was saying, Longbottom can't do anything. Oh, look. It's that stupid thing his Gran sent him!"  
He holds up the small glass ball from before, which glitters in the sunlight.  
"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry says quietly. Everyone stops talking to watch. Draco smiles nastily.  
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"  
"Give it here!" Harry yells, but Draco leaps onto his broomstick and takes off. Well, all that boasting must have actually been true. He can fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he calls, "Come and get it, Potter!"  
Harry grabs his broom.  
"No! Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."  
Draco has already gotten into trouble with Professor McGonagall, he doesn't need more now. Harry, despite his good intentions, could probably kill himself. We haven't learned to fly yet!  
Harry and Draco ignore me. Harry, as if to spite me, rises higher in the air. He turns around abruptly to face Draco, who is looking stunned.  
"Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!"  
"Oh yeah?" Draco tries to sneer but fails miserably.  
Harry shoots towards Draco like a javelin. Draco barely gets out of the way. I wish they hadn't disobeyed… Some people are even clapping! Don't they realize Harry and Draco could die?  
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry taunts.  
"Catch it if you can, then!" Draco shouts, tossing the glass ball into the air.  
Harry plummets downwards on his broom. How could he? He'll kill himself, or seriously injure himself! All for a little glass ball! Harry stretches out his hand and catches the ball. He levels out his broom and topples gently onto the grass. How…?  
Draco dives towards the ground and lands elegantly, teeth gritted. He shoots a venomous look at Harry.  
"HARRY POTTER! Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - how dare you - might have broken your neck -" Professor McGonagall reprimands, glasses flashing in fury.  
"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"  
"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"  
"But Malfoy -"  
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."  
Professor McGonagall completely ignored Draco. If she saw Harry, she had to have seen Draco. She obviously didn't bother with him. Either all the teachers think Slytherins are rotten to the core and nobody can get through to them or Professor McGonagall has a certain bias for Slytherins. I'm pretty sure it's the first. And Draco should stay safe, too.  
"Draco! You could have killed yourself! What do you think you were doing!? Draco, you were being outright cruel! If you didn't want to be bested-"  
"Lay off!" he says loudly, eyes narrowed.  
"-you shouldn't have tried to compete against Harry with a glass ball doing something we haven't even learned yet! You-"  
"Shut up!" he yells, face reddening, "Are you saying Potter is better than me? That I should have known I would be bested because he's so superior? Oh no, precious Potter who killed the Dark Lord is so much better than me because I haven't gotten a huge scar across my forehead as a baby!" Draco rants furiously.  
Everyone has gone silent, staring at Draco. He storms off, embarrassed and fuming.  
"Hermione… you're not supposed to argue with another Slytherin in public," Tracey reminds me quietly.  
"Sorry," I say, annoyed, "I just try to keep my friends safe and they completely blow up at me. Society is strange."  
"Well, can I make you feel better? There's a nail painting session at nine."  
"Thanks, but I'd rather read. I'll see you in the common room, I guess…"  
Madam Hooch returns. I completely forgot about her.  
"Class is dismissed."  
She's been gone for most of the class. It took that long to bring a student to the Hospital Wing and return!?

* * *

"Harry, that's wonderful! You're the youngest first year house player in-"  
"-about a century."  
Harry had just been telling me about how he got onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team as a Seeker, and exactly what Quidditch was. At first, most objected to letting me sit there, but Harry placated them by saying I couldn't be all bad, and I certainly wasn't a bigot, being Muggleborn. Way to use peoples' biases, Harry. But it still bothers me.  
"Congratulations, Harry!"  
I return to the Slytherin table, and Draco leaves, heading in the direction of Harry. When will he learn…? They speak for a while, and return.  
"I'll get Potter back, he'll never know what hit him. I'm not showing up tonight. That half-blood'll have fun in detention," I overhear Draco say to Tim Nott.  
"Not showing up for what?"  
"None of your business," Draco snarls.  
"Get out, Mudblood," Tim Nott says in a pleasant tone.  
"Ability before blood."  
"Fine, Malfoy. I won't insult your girlfriend."  
"She's not my girlfriend!"  
While Tim Nott teases Draco, I walk over to Harry's table.  
"Don't show up for whatever Draco planned with you. He says he's not showing up and that you'll have fun in detention. Personally, I'd say he's jealous of you."  
Harry groaned. "Should have known Malfoy would have pulled something like that. Thanks, Hermione."  
I smile to myself.

* * *

Draco smirks over in the direction of Harry. It immediately is replaced by a sulking expression.  
"You really shouldn't have done that, you know…"  
"So you told Potter. You can't be trusted," Draco says shortly, shaking with suppressed rage. Apparently, he remembers the unofficial rules now. He stalks off to Harry's table. Again…? The next thing I know, sparks are shooting out of their wands. Those two really don't get along.  
I run up to a professor.  
"Harry and Draco are duelling. I don't want either of them to get hurt…"  
The professor immediately leaves and starts scolding the two. Several house points are taken, and Draco returns, eyes narrowed to slits.  
"You interfere with everything I do! You fancy Potter, don't you? Just go away!" he hisses, so only I can hear.  
"Draco, please, be reasonable…"  
"If you think being reasonable is being an annoying tattle-tale, then you're wrong."  
I'm not going to show him anything. I'll pretend he doesn't exist. At least, that's what the books say to do…  
"So, Tracey, how about that nail painting session?"

* * *

**Thanks for reading my fanfic, and special thanks to my beta/co-author, DracoMalfoyIsMyLionI'mHisLamb! And more special thanks to anyone who reviewed/subbed/faved! ^^**


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